


You Look Ridiculous

by coveredbyroses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 05:31:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17037572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: Dean looks ridiculous in those glasses. Not hot. Not at all.





	You Look Ridiculous

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during ep 14x04 - Mint Condition.

“You look ridiculous, y’know,” you say, stuffing the pizza box into the trash bag.

Dean looks down, smooths his hands down the white front of his neatly-pressed dress shirt.

“What’re you talkin’ about? You love it when I dress up.”

You scoop up two empty beer bottles off Dean’s nightstand. “It’s the short sleeves, dude.”

“You - short sleeves. The short sleeves bother you.” He gets his hands on his hips. “Did you  _see_  what Michael dressed me in?”

“Yep. Gotta say, he doesn’t have bad taste.” You move to crumple up a nearly empty bag of stale potato chips, eyes trained on the task of cleaning the hunter’s mess.

“You’re joking. You’ve gotta be joking.”

You shrug, kneeing up on the bed to reach an empty whiskey bottle tilted over a fallen book. “I mean, the cap was a little much.”

“You seriously gonna mock my possession?”

Ah, shit.

You step off the bed, drop the trash bag to the floor, and walk up to him. Your eyes hook on his as you reach up to trail your fingers through his short hair. “Babe, you know I’m not doing that…I’s just messing around. I’m sorry.”

A languid smile stretches his lips as he snakes his arms around your waist. “I know.” He ducks down, captures your lips in a quick kiss before breaking away to pick up a black, blue, and grey plaid blazer.

“The hell is that?”

“Gotta look the part,” he says, slipping it on, and shrugging it up over his shoulders.

“Where did you even  _find_  that? Y’know what - no. I don’t wanna know.”

Dean chuckles as you shake your head and turn back toward the half-full trash bag.

“Wait!” Dean says, prompting you to turn back-

“Eh?”

You open your mouth, then quickly clamp it shut as you take in the black, thick-rimmed glasses framing his mossy eyes.

Dean’s hands sit on his hips as he waits for your reaction, full lips pulled taut in a wide grin.

“Um. Wow,” you manage, mouth agape. _“Wowww.”_

The hunter turns then, walks up to the aged mirror. “Oh yeah,” he says, smirking at his own reflection. “I look like a fuckin’ nerd.”

“Uh. Yeah,” you chuckle with a shake of your head.

“Whatever,” Dean says, meeting your gaze in the mirror. “You still dig me.” You don’t miss the wink he throws you behind those ridiculous things.

And they are ridiculous. Not attractive. Nope. Not at all.

“Yeah. Keep telling yourself that.” Did your voice get lower? Shit.

“Alright, I gotta get goin’. Sam’s gonna start bitching-”

“Wait!”

“What?”

“Um…Am I gonna get hug goodbye or what?”

He gives you one of those frustrating half-smirks, eyes a little hooded. Then he saunters toward you, and fuck that swagger. Fuck those stupid khakis.

Fuck, he smells so good when he pulls you close; like mint and coffee, and he bends down a little so you can nuzzle into his neck as you wrap your arms around him.

You’re the one to break away when you feel the first pulse of electric heat zip through your middle.  

“So, um, be careful?” That wasn’t supposed to be a question. Shit, you’ve been dating the guy for six months now. You’d think you’d be way beyond the awkward stage.

But it’s just so hard to think when his big hands are so warm and heavy on your waist. Your gaze is settled on his chest, on his tie - the only sensible article of clothing on him at the moment.

“You okay?” You don’t have to look at his face to know he’s grinning.

“Yeah. Just. Ugh, goddamnit.”

“Wha-”

But then you’re sinking to your knees, your hands trailing down the front of him as you finally raise your eyes to his.

“Are-are you serious?” Dean stammers. “I gotta go, Sam’s - he’s waiting and-”

“I’ll be quick.” You fumble a little with his belt, but manage to work it open, your fingers shaking as they release the brass button, yank down the zipper. He’s half-hard by the time you get his pants and boxers down under his ass.

You get your hand around his base, lift his swelling length to your lips and give him a testing lick. His hips twitch, dick flinching to life against your palm. His hand lands heavy on your head, just as you take him into your mouth, salty-hot and thick even though he’s not yet at full-hardness.

He moans when you swirl your tongue around the broad head, and just the sound of his deep rasp prompts you to slide your lips down the smooth length of him. You pull back when he bumps the back of your throat, let your lips lay soft around the tip while you glide your curled hand over his now-slick shaft.

Your eyes never leave his as you work; and you watch as he pulls the hand from your head to run through the velvety spikes of his hair, mouth gaping as you pump him to completion. He slips off the glasses, moves like he’s going to toss them on the bed-

You slide off of him with a pop. “No,” you breathe. “Leave ‘em on. Please.”

Dean looks at you, brows low, lips still-parted. You draw your bottom lip between your teeth as he slowly slides the eyeware back on…

And then you  _dive_  on him, rejoicing at the strangled cry that rips from his throat as you take him deeper and deeper. You can feel him swell in your mouth, feel your lips stretch around him, feel the hefty weight of him against your tongue.

A rustling sound draws your eyes back up-

He’s frantically shrugging off the hideous blazer, and you can hear the swish as it hits the floor.

A part of you wants to laugh at the image of him in that god-awful short-sleeved dress shirt and large-framed glasses-

But fuck, the way his head is tipped back in pleasure; soft lips loose and open…

Has your panties soaking through.

You continue to pump him as you suck, move your free hand up to cup his balls. He starts to cave in, gets both hands on your head, fingers curled in your hair to steady himself-

And then he starts to thrust; short little staccato jerks into your mouth that match the breathy grunts punching from his chest.

You’re working him with both hands now; pulling, gliding, squeezing-   
His grip on your hair goes tighter and tighter as he chases his orgasm, and is that? Shit. Sam’s calling for Dean; agitated and no doubt rolling his eyes at his brother’s usual tardiness.

He calls his name again - fuck. He’s closer.

You suction your lips, hollow your cheeks - and Dean  _snarls_ , and starts to thrust faster. You firm your tongue, feel the ridge of the thick vein lining the underside of his cock as he slides against you.

And god, you want so  _badly_  to shove a hand down the front of your pants, but there’s just no time and-

Pain spreads over your scalp as Dean fists at your hair, and then he’s curling in and over, stiff as he mashes himself into you.

Warm come hits the back of your throat in pulsing spurts, and you have to pull back a little because he’s still idly rocking into your mouth as he comes down.

He pulls his softening length free after several seconds, and you rise on shaky legs, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand as Dean tucks himself back into his khakis.

The door swings open then to reveal a very tall, and very perturbed Sam gawking incredulously at the two of you.

“Really?” Sam gapes, eyes purposely avoiding yours. “Dean, we needed to leave ten minutes ago.”

Dean shrugs, picks up the discarded jacket. “So, let’s go.” He starts to make his way toward the door, then turns back to you.

“Oh, uh…thanks for the goodbye hug.” Then he winks behind those ridiculous glasses, and closes the door behind him.

Fucking nerd.


End file.
